Dropped
by ModernNerd20
Summary: Nayeli (Nel) has been ripped away from her quiet life in the suburbs of Wyoming and dropped into a different world. Or rather, a different time. Was this an accident? A crazy unexplanable twist of fate? Or did her “kook” of a grandmother have something to do with it? Follow Nel as she uncovers the truth about her family’s dark past and tries to survive 1865. SLOW BURN: Cullen, OFC
1. Chapter One

**Don't know where this story even came from. She just kinda popped into my head. This if for all those Cullen Bohannon lovers out there. RR**

Maybe she was dead.

She thought her eyes were open, but the darkness surrounding her was so complete that it had to be impossible. The only indication that they were in fact open were the small star like speck in the blackness.

And the silence. God, was the silence deafening. Only moments ago she could remember hearing the soft thump of her heart, the sound of her sneakers hitting the pavement at in a sort of rhythmic pattern.

What the hell had happened?

One minute she was running around her block in broad daylight and the next she's lying in a field in total darkness.

The idea of being in a field had just occurred to her. Under her limbs she could feel the blades of dried grass rubbing against her skin. It was talk too. She could feel it scratch against her ears and neck.

Quickly, she did an inventory of her body. Nothing felt broken or sprained. No head ache or stomach pains. Besides a bit chilly, she felt completely fine. The weight of her grandmother's necklace still pressed against her chest. She sat up straight and was once again overwhelmed by the impenetrable darkness. No car lights or street lamps. No nearby houses with windows glowing from within. Just... black.

Had she been kidnapped? Hit over the head or drugged, causing her to forget the events that brought her here? She felt like she was in the beginning of a Law and Order episode. Right before detectives find the victim... or right before the killer does.

Just as she was about to throw herself into a panic, thunder erupted. At least that's what she thought. It was a low rumble at first, but quickly grew louder. Faster. Closer. Until she could feel the ground beneath her tremble.

Horses, dozens of them, broke through the wall of black and circled around her, their patches of white fur all but glowing in the darkness.

Someone spoke and she realized there were men atop the massive creatures. She could see nothing more than a faint outline of their silhouettes. They spoke in a language she didn't understand and that quite honestly sounded made up.

"Where am I?" She tried to ask, hoping they knew English. She heard feet hit the ground and stomp towards her. Angry fingers latched onto her hair and all by dragged her through the grass.

She let out a broken scream of fear and pain as she clawed at the persons hands and arms. But it made no difference.

Something hard came down on her temple and the darkness returned, with it came unconsciousness.

 ** _Two days later:_**

She sat outside the tent, her hands bound tightly by a rope, like a dog on a leash.

These people were going to kill her. It was a miracle they hadn't already. They'd branded her like cattle, beaten her like a rag doll, and taken her clothes. The sad excuse for a dress she wore now was torn and short. It didn't keep out the cold, and the material irritated her skin.

She had to get away.

From the second she'd opened her eyes in that damn field, she had been trying to figure out where she was. The only logical thing she could come up with is that she's been kidnapped by some secret Native American cult.

They had yet to feed her, so she knew her time was running out. If she was going to escape, it had to be soon, while she still had energy to do so. Albeit, not much.

So she waited until nightfall when the man who held the other end of her leash had fallen asleep. In the daylight, she'd managed to get her hands on a small stick. The children had been playing with it to poke at a dead snake. It wasn't sharp, but she didn't need it to be.

When she was sure he was asleep, she crept up beside his snoring figure. The stick was thick enough to hold strong as she thrust it into the front of this throat.

His eyes widened and his mouth opened to scream, but she knew she'd hit his trachea. No sound rolled off his tongue as he bled out in his own tent.

Once he was dead, she ran.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello again.**

She ran until her feet bled. Which, in the sharp unforgiving grass, wasn't very long. Night had fallen, but the full moon gave off enough light to help her navigate the best she could. Once in a while she would stop to listen and pray that she didn't hear the angry mob she expected.

The silence didn't bother her any longer. Growing up near the city had given her the ability to block out clutter. At least that's what her grandma used to call the never ending ambience of car horns, music, and chattering outside their windows. She's grown so accustomed to that "clutter" that as soon as it went missing, she felt like an invisible veil had been lifted from her brain.

In this moment, the silence comforted her. No noise meant no one was coming for her. No one was chasing her. No one had discovered her captor's body yet.

She pushed on for what seemed like hours before she caught the first glimpse of light. It wasn't much, a small candle in a far off window? Her legs carried her towards it, but with slow, agonizing steps.

The closer she got the to civilization, the more her fear tried to suffocate her. What if the townspeople were worse? What if they didn't believe her? What if they threw her in a padded room?

Maybe she should just say she was kidnapped, and leave out the whole "weird Native American cult" aspect.

The lights ahead started to dim, and her heart began to race in panic. They were leaving! She'd be stranded here in the middle of nowhere.

Even she knew that he thoughts were delusional. Towns did just pick up and move. But then, why were the lights fading?

And why was the ground dipping at her feet? And why the sky spinning above her?

With a hard _whap,_ her body met the ground. Her vision black, her mind blank. Unconscious.

"Mr. Bohannon!" Eva hollered as she ran through the old pubs doors.

One night. Just one night he'd like to drink himself into oblivion and not be bothered.

But that wasn't going to be tonight, was it?

He turned and tipped his head to the woman, letting her know he was listening.

"They found someone out in the fields." She said breathlessly. She must have ran across town to find him. Cullen remained silent, unsure how any of this was his problem. But Eva, a pistol of a woman, tapped her foot with impatience.

"Take it up with Durant." He grumbled before taking another sip.

"She's and Indian." Eva had dropped her voice so her words weren't overheard. This caught his attention. For months they'd been trying to create peace with the Indians. Almost had it too, but it wasn't easy. Cullen has a hard time keeping his men in line. Killing Indians had become a sort of sport for them, and putting a stop to that hadn't gone over well.

Durant was the worst of all them. Any chance he had to give an order to kill and Indian, he took it. Burn an Indian village to the ground? He'd give the order without a second thought. He didn't understand the time, and men, they were wasting on this war was costing them valuable time on the railroad.

What would happen if Durant handled this particular incident? _A savage caught trespassing in our town._ He could hear the man making the excuse to execute the Indian.

"Dammit." He groaned, knowing he had to be the one to take care of this. "What was he doing? Trying to steal cattle?" He asked as he slid off the barstool and grabbed his jacket. If they let the man off with a warning, maybe it would help strengthen the peace.

"She." Eva said blankly. "It's a she. And no. They found her out in the fields."

Cullen paused. What the hell would a woman be doing out in the fields? And so close to Hell on Wheels? He sent up a silent prayer of thanks that it had been Elam and his men that'd found her. Any of the others wouldn't have been so merciful.

"Alright then," he slurred the two words together and motioned for Eva to lead the way. The days in Hell On Wheels were still unbearably hot when the sun hit its peak. But once that sun sleeps, the cold sets in. Cullen was reminded of that when he felt a discernible crunch of fronzen mud beneath his boots.

When they finally reached the back rows of tents, it was like entering a new world. The front tents, where the white workers stayed, were primarily empty and quiet; their inhabitants taking up station on a bar stool. The black workers however, had nowhere to drink but here, at their tents and in the middle of open common space between them. Laughter and song filled the air, along with the pungent scent that can only come from a whisky bottle. There was a different feel to this environment. Lighter, maybe, than in the closed-in dank ness of the bar.

Psalms caught their attention from beyond the small crowd that had gathered to play cards. When Eva and Cullen made their way over, the man disappeared into a nearby tent, inviting them to follow.

There she was. A tangled mess of limbs asleep on Elam's hard cot. Cullen again thought of how lucky this woman had been to be found by Elam. Not only would he keep his paws to himself, but he was one of the only black men to have an actual bed.

But, judging by the dried blood and bruises that smeared her body, maybe lucky she was so lucky at all.


End file.
